The Conquests of Ezio Auditore
by TheGrandXia
Summary: In those sought-after days of the Florentine sun, Ezio Auditore seeks something greater than vengeance...
1. 1

Ezio Auditore found himself in that situation again: the straw scratching his eyebrows; the dust tickling his throat; the guards yelling _'trova il bastardo'_ , multiple streets away. His leg hurt, that much he admitted, but what would you expect from landing in a haystack from six stories up? He swiped the hair from his eyes- black and sleek, it was- and clambered from the haystack to the surprise of numerous bystanders.

It was a warm, summer's day in 1475, The Year of Our Lord- the year Ezio would come of age. The sun beat him like a sauna in his noble kit; black surcoat and white undershirt with frills on the sleeves. The sun amplified the smell of hay and shit about him- luckily he was close to the Arno; the great river of Firenze.

As he sped through the streets- to the jests of bards and whores, the smell leaving a trail behind him- a stitch formed in his lower left side, which didn't cease when he clambered down the stone steps and flung himself into the crystalline waters of the river. The water felt cool against his moist skin- which was the colour of olives- but evaporated immediately. His clothes now felt heavy against him.

He spotted many revellers and bathers along the river's banks. Some were naked- the women's breasts as white and pure as milk- but some merely dipped their feet in as the ferries passed by, their captains chanting elated covers of Latin hymns.

 _What a time to be alive,_ Ezio thought, as he waded his way towards the banks of the Arno, beside a man who smelt strongly of piss and ale. He desired the taste of ale against his lips- his mother and father had strictly prohibited its consumption, other than at family get-togethers, but Frederico had promised to take him into the streets before his time arrived.

Ezio heard the shouts again; screams about a boy making a move on a nobleman's daughter and beating an aristocratic brat. Only part of it was true- the daughter wanted him, he knew it! She called herself Cristina Vespucci. He had heard tales of her beauty, but none demonstrated the truth. Her hair was dark and silky; the hips full and bountiful; her figure immaculate- like a goddess'. His time was only a week away- the ripe, young age of _sedici_. Ezio could not wait; the tension building inside of him ate away at him, morsel by morsel, cell by cell. He had been so close to kissing her, but then the guards accused him and fondling and raping and then he found himself in that haystack.

Ezio lowered his head under the water, allowing the pressure to bring his mind to rest.


	2. 2

He rang his clothes free of water as discreetly as he could at the back of a smithy's; in a puddle already formed; redressed, and ascended to the rooftops. He loved to soar over the city. He loved the sound he made when his boot caught the edge of the orange-tinted roof slabs. The rush of almost falling into the streets stories below. He loved being free from everyone- the guards, Vierri, his family…

Ezio parked himself under a lemon tree on a nobleman's terrace. The house seemed vacated, so he assumed they had gone on holiday to _Roma_ or _Venezia._ Ezio picked a perfectly ripe lemon from the tree, and savoured its citrus juices as noon came and went. He hummed to himself a little lullaby he had heard his mother sing to Petruccio when he was but a squalling babe. He cracked his back against the roots of the tree; blinked whenever the sun broke through the minimal leaf and branch cover, but enjoyed his rest nonetheless.

 _Life is good,_ Ezio Auditore thought to himself, in the same tune of that lullaby he loved.


	3. 3

Ezio loved _Firenze_ at night, particularly during the summer. He revelled in the fresh night air which massaged his cheeks; the laughs he heard coming from the closed doors of taverns and the _l'amore di rose_. Cocky as he was, Ezio barged into a tavern with its doors open, slung himself upon a stool and beckoned the bartender towards him.

"You still got peach fuzz, _ragazzo_." The bartender grumbled in an accent not from _Firenze_. Ezio stroked his tender cheek, realising it was true. _What's wrong in trying?_

"What's wrong with that, _bastardo?_ " his bashfulness got the better of him. Before he could think, Ezio felt a pair of sweaty hands under his arms, and the dust of the street on his arse. _Foterre_ , he thought. He lay his head against the cobbled street, feigning any morsel of strength he may have had to stand. He listened to the screeching song of a bard a few houses down the street: something about a king casting down a dragon for his queen.

Involuntarily, Ezio was lugged to his feet and pinned to a wall in a back courtyard. His back ached even more- more than it had ever- as he felt the rustles of the brick scratch his vertebrae and shoulder blades. He felt a harsh boot kick apart his legs, and the cold shiver of a knife in between them.

" _Buona sera_ , Ezio." God, he hated that voice.

Ezio considered Vierri di Pazzi to be the scum of _Firenze._ He would have head-butted him and called him all sorts of names: if he didn't have a knife so close to his cock. "Having a nice little stroll, are we?"

Ezio glanced at the henchmen beside him. _Both brutes; both educated; both able_. Ezio considered Vierri to look like a twat tonight, with that pathetic beret he paraded around and his shoulder length cobalt hair. Though he was two years Ezio's elder, he barely had a hair on his chin, and he stood a good few inches shorter than Ezio. _I guess that's why he has his brutes._

"Do you enjoy having your blade so close to my _cazzo_?" Ezio mocked. Vierri chuckled intrepidly; leant in close to Ezio (so close his could smell the wine on his tongue), and pecked a kiss upon his lips. Ezio tried to pull back, but couldn't; apprehended, for once, by a wall. Ezio felt the knife shimmy down his leg, and then the clatter of steel against cobble. Vierri insisted, pushing something uninvited against the inside of Ezio's leg he didn't much appreciate. "I thought you liked to court Cristina Vespucci." Ezio gasped as Vierri paused.

"The girl is stubborn: I have moved to broader horizons."

"Is that your _pene_ against my leg?"

"Why don't you find out?" Vierri moaned before unlacing his trousers. Seeing his opportunity, Ezio brought the full force of his kick to Vierri's groin. The Pazzi brat seized up, keeled over, and sprawled into the muck of the street. Before his goons had drawn their _cotelli_ , Ezio was gone via a side alley, his heart hammering in his chest. Not risking the chance of either thug scarpering after him, Ezio absconded onto the rooftops.

By the time he arrived at the _Villa Auditore_ , the hour was late. He stripped down into nakedness; fell into bed; and awoke in what seemed like minutes later when his _madre_ called.


	4. 4

The servant, Anetta, washed him; cut his hair- erasing the hair about his manhood, legs, and arms from existence- before handing him a pair of breeches, trousers, and undershirt to wear. He thought he saw Anetta watching his nakedness, but he dismissed his allegations as false. When he was dressed, his _madre_ , Maria, summoned him.

"Do you like it?" she asked, concerning an abstract portrait of some religious doctrine.

"What is it?"

"Use your brain, son."

"It disgusts me." Maria nodded, though not morosely, taking the painting down from the wall and tossing it into the fire. Ezio saw a glint in her eye as the canvas shrivelled up into a black shape, and then into nothingness.

" _Madre_ , you didn't need to-" Maria shushed her son.

"Leonardo told me to do so if they were received badly. It was."

"Who's Leonardo?"

"A painter… he lives near the Arno. A charming man, but very self-conscious."

"I'm sure we're all self-conscious, _madre_."


End file.
